


Resurrection I: Wanted, Dead or Alive

by auronlu



Series: Resurrection (Auron/Lulu) [1]
Category: FFX
Genre: F/M, First Time, in-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-24
Updated: 2006-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auronlu/pseuds/auronlu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Yuna and Tidus are enjoying a watery date, off-duty chaperones find another way to pass the time. (My very first lemon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wanted, Dead or Alive

The faintest scuff of boot on dirt announced Auron's return from his solitary patrol of the perimeter. The swordsman barely glanced at the sleeping forms of Wakka and Rikku, the one sprawled out and snoring near the campfire, the other curled up neatly in the crook of a tree on the far side of the clearing. He strode purposefully towards the aloof figure keeping solitary vigil at the edge of the glade. "Where is Yuna? The boy should have brought her back by now."

Pivoting on one heel, the black mage arched an eyebrow. "I suppose you would have forgotten, wouldn't you? The children are playing." She smiled faintly. "Let them. Kimahri is guarding them, and I assume that you left no threat in the vicinity."

"For the moment." As always, his expression was inscrutable behind shaded lenses. "We are approaching the Calm Lands. This is no place to be dropping our guard."

"I know that," Lulu said sharply, her dry humor abruptly evaporating.

With a rustle of leaves, a sleepy head popped out between the treebranches. Rikku blinked drowsily and peered down at the pair. "Hey! Is everything okay?"

The older woman nodded curtly. "Fine, Rikku. Sleep now. Yuna will need her guardians to be alert tomorrow."

"Okay! Don't forget to wake me, Lulu!" Ever cheerful, the Al Bhed girl rolled over and vanished back among the foliage.

The clearing fell silent again, apart from the faint peeps of the forest's night creatures and the last crinkling embers of the fire. Expression hooded, Lulu stood gazing into the flickering red glow, pondering the next leg of their journey. This is how it was, most nights: she and Auron sharing the darkness in reserved but companionable silence, keeping watch over the others until it was time for her to rouse someone for the next shift. Lulu had noticed some time ago that Sir Auron never ended his watch when she did, but she had not troubled to ask him about it. She had guessed why.

He seldom said a word during their nightly vigils, so at first she did not realize that he had addressed her: "Come with me."

Surprised by the request, although not by its abruptness, she hesitated and glanced down at the burly blitzball player sprawled near her feet, oblivious to the world. But if Auron thought it safe to leave them for a while, then safe they would be. With a faint jingle of metal, she turned her back on the fire to follow him, plunging into pitch darkness until her eyes adjusted to night's shadow. He strode off without looking back. Threading his way among old twisted trunks, he led her deeper into the forest, where the light of stars and moon found few chinks in the dense canopy overhead. At length, they emerged into a smaller clearing hemmed by low bushes. Dew glistened on leaf and branch, lit only by the faint swirling eddies of pyreflies.

Coming to a halt, Lulu folded her hands and tilted her head towards him. "Well?"

Auron did not mince words. "You have been Guardian twice before. I once. Both of us have lost the summoners we guarded."

Lulu frowned. She had been reviewing their route all evening, combing every past misstep for clues. A reminder was hardly necessary. "Yes. But yours reached the end of his pilgrimage."

"He still died." There was no trace of self-pity in his blunt assessment, only stark truth. "Your task is harder. Your experience helps you guide Yuna, but it also plants a seed of self-doubt." He gazed at her grimly over the rim of his glasses. "Fight doubt as fiercely as you fight for her. Do not make the mistake of comparing Yuna to Lady Ginnem. Yuna is Yuna. She will find her own way."

Lulu exhaled, surprised and touched by the uncharacteristically lengthy speech from the taciturn swordsman. "I hope so. She is strong."

Auron rested his ungloved hand briefly on Lulu's shoulder. "She has a good role model."

The compliment barely registered, but the brief unexpected touch jolted her like contact with a Djose sphere. Her surprise bubbled into a ripple of laughter. "Comforting words coming from you? If that, Sir Auron, was meant to throw me off-balance, it succeeded, but not in the way you intended." She gave him a keen look. "Your hand is warm."

Subtlety seemed to be lost on him, or more likely he had mastered the art of selective deafness. When no reply was forthcoming, Lulu prodded, "Do you sometimes forget that you are dead?"

Auron regarded her coolly. "Never," he said. "Was there a purpose to that question?"

The faint brittleness in his tone wiped away any satisfaction she might have felt in catching him out at last. "I cannot help wondering sometimes." She lowered her eyes, leaving Chappu's name unspoken. "But that was thoughtless of me. My heart is more dead than yours, I think. My apologies."

Pushing up his dark glasses with his thumb, he gazed past her into the indifferent web of drifting lights surrounding them. "Do any of the others know?"

"Kimahri, perhaps. I have not asked."

"Of course." Taking a swig from his canteen and hefting his sword across his shoulders, he turned to head back to camp.

"Sir Auron, wait."

Halting, Auron watched impassively as she glided towards him. He did not stir when she reached up and lifted his glasses, gazing into his good eye long and searchingly, as a visitor to Guadosalam might peer into the mists seeking a missing face from the Farplane. He stiffened only when she raised herself slightly on tiptoe, folded down the high brim of his collar with a fingertip, and planted a light kiss on his mouth.

Lulu smiled at his bemused expression. "The children are playing," she repeated softly. "Do you ever find yourself wanting to be alive again? Sometimes I do."

"Lulu," he replied after a lengthy pause, "I am no more like Chappu than Jecht's son is, apart from being dead. And there you have me at a disadvantage."

"I wonder," she murmured.

The pyreflies danced. Auron and Lulu stood still, taking each other's measure. His temples flecked with grey, mantled in a bulky great-coat that added to his stature, Sir Auron claimed the ground on which he stood like one of the guardian statues in the sanctuaries. The history of his battles lay deeply grooved across his tanned face. Lulu, although half a foot shorter, was one of the few who did not seem to dwindle in his shadow: she stood erect, pale, poised, trailing long black braids and sheathed in a dark gown whose lower half was a maze of buckles and leather straps that hinted at chained power. Her steel-chiselled features were more regal than Yuna's, although she could boast of no famous father. Both warrior and mage stood out by standing aloof.

Her amber eyes did not leave his face. "Do not mistake me: There is nothing between us. I loved Chappu. Your heart is also with the fallen. Yet I find myself faced with an intriguing challenge. You burn with such fire that you remain in Spira, refusing to be sent. My heart is cold, and rests with Chappu on the Farplane. Do you suppose that one of us could, just for a time, make the other feel like one of the living?"

His expression barely flickered at the outrageous proposition, disarmingly phrased in even, measured tones. But his eye glinted over his glasses with a light that was no longer quite human.

"I doubt it," he muttered. "But I should not mind being proved wrong." Slowly and deliberately he sank the great sword into the earth beside him, removed his glasses with unhurried precision and hung them over the hilt, and unfastened the collar concealing the lower third of his face.

Lulu tipped up her chin with a speculative gleam in her eye. She had not really expected him to acquiesce. This should prove interesting.


	2. The Swordsman

Face shadowed, Auron bent his head towards the mage's, peeling back the muffler around his neck and letting it fall. Time seemed to unwind and slow, and even the pyreflies appeared to be meandering sluggishly. Lulu took a sharp breath, wondering briefly if Sin's toxin had left some lingering effects on her. Then there was no more time for thought. Auron bypassed her upturned face and brushed dry lips against the porcelain skin of her exposed neck.

And again.

And again.

Her flesh tingled with the same sensation as before, only more strongly. His touch reminded her of the buildup of energy in her hands before she cast a lightning bolt. The man's presence was overpowering, like a mountain looming against the sky, and yet she sensed no emotion from him at all as he began to plash her skin with light, sensuous, feathery kisses. Slowly he worked his way down, across her bared shoulders, lingering hauntingly over the hollow of her throat. His sword-arm settled solidly behind her back as he continued his pilgrimage. Head tilted back, hands clenched loosely at her sides, Lulu felt a tremor go through her that she had not felt in a very long time.

Oddly, he did not touch her breasts. Chappu had always leapt upon them early, greedy and simple in his desires. Auron barely seemed to notice them-- unlike most men, who tended to talk to them rather than to her, as if unaware that she was attached to them. No, he showed no such single-minded bias as he sampled the landscape of her flesh with probing kisses, changing pressure and rhythm whenever she responded with a stifled gasp or quickening breath. At last he worked his way up to her chin, her face, her cheeks, her eyelids-- a dangerous moment, for it meant lowering her guard completely, if only for a few seconds-- and finally her mouth. His lips were neither warm nor cool, but he had not forgotten how to use them.

"Mmmm," she murmured, licking his lips.

Auron's gaze still smoldered with that eerie eldritch light, as if his true eyes were hidden behind another layer of lenses. She found his reserve strangely liberating. Seymour's smug possessiveness had disgusted her, the artless hangdog glances of Yuna's younger suitor made her impatient just watching them, and if Auron had displayed the tender intimacy of a lover, she would have been outraged by the trespass on Chappu's memory. No, there was something else she sought just now. The intensity of Auron's gaze was a window on his pure, raw, paradoxical will to cling to life. She met his kisses with an answering passion that had little to do with love. If no wood or fuel was on hand, a mage might resort to magical fire to stay warm.

Auron's kisses had become rougher. His arm, which had slipped down to brace the small of her back, held her forcefully against his body so that she was bent beneath him in a graceful arc. She let out a soft throaty moan as his tongue stole between her lips and dove in. He replied with one of those sardonic guttural noises, half amused, half deadly, that he often used to express satisfaction with a kill.

Lulu's hands began to rove-- she was unaccustomed to playing a passive role for long-- first gliding up the sinewy muscles of his left arm, then across his weathered face, through his grizzled hair, down his ponytail, and along faded scars on his neck that vanished into his armor. Every texture had a tale behind it, but she was not interested in stories of the Legendary Hero just now. She felt no hint of a pulse when her fingers played across his throat, but she was thoroughly beginning to enjoy the challenge she had set herself, trying to provoke a response from him with delicate, teasing touches.

He growled into her mouth, and her lips curled in secret triumph.

The next delicious moment came when he reached up with his free hand to draw out one of the sticks holding most of her hair in place. One black tress came tumbling down against the nape of her neck. He repeated this process one hairstick at a time, pausing between them to arrange and smooth each lock of hair over her bare neck and shoulders. When he was finished, he pulled away from her mouth to examine his handiwork. The luxurious black waves that framed her white skin, falling halfway down her back, were a feast for the eyes. "Apparently," he whispered between slow, insistent kisses, tickling her neck as he removed her necklaces and draped them across the hilt of his sword,"Maester Seymour is unmoved by wisdom, beauty, and strength. Otherwise I can't see why he never pursued you."

She sighed appreciatively as the silken strands and beads brushed over her skin. "He seeks only a pawn. You're telling me you are?"

"Not usually." He answered her question more directly with another forceful kiss.

She moaned and returned the favor, gripping his shoulders. Unfortunately, his heavy coat was in the way. And damn the man's armor! What use was it for a dead man anyway? She fumbled to unbuckle the sash around his waist so that she could push his coat off his shoulders. Better. His arms gave at least some field for her own bewitching craft. Guided by instinct, the mage traced the ley lines and currents of power that she sensed beneath the surface of his skin. It was the first clue that had aroused her suspicions during their nightly vigil: the thrum of energies kept under tension just beyond her sight, the power of a physical body maintained by sheer force of will. It awed her like one of the Fayth. She wanted to touch it, grasp it, drink it...

Auron's raw, turbulent kisses soon drove away more esoteric thoughts, and for a while she gave herself over entirely to oral pleasures, sucking and nuzzling, their hot tongues pushing and wrestling and sliding out of each other's grasp. Now and then his rough chin rasped against her cheek. She whispered unintelligible sweet murmurs into his mouth. Finally, giving the sensitive skin inside his upper arm a sharp pinch, she relinquished his lips to follow her fingers' explorations with more kisses, tasting skin that smelled only of leather, not sweat. His flesh was as clean and pure as an acolyte new-come from a purification bath.

Auron had released his stiflingly tight hold on her waist when she moved to disrobe him, and now his hands were free to roam. Even now, he took his time, watching her with that unfathomable gaze while his hands stroked her with unhurried, firm caresses, like rollers breaking on the beach. Oh, yes, he had finally remembered her breasts. She drew another sharp breath as his thumbs deftly coaxed nipples to life beneath the stiff fabric of her corset. But this was only one stop on his pilgrimage, as he roamed the contours of her shoulderblades, the hourglass dip of her waist, the sensitive flesh of her stomach, the smooth lines of her arms, the leap of living pulse in each of her wrists. Her breathing was fast and ragged now, and she gasped when one of his hands slipped through the jumbled net of belts and straps and buckles that served as a skirt, and skimmed lightly over her inner thigh.

It had been so long. Yes, she had worn that rather unique style of dress even before Chappu's death, although she had heard the whispered speculations about it afterwards. The spiteful rumor was that she wore a padlock between her legs in his memory. Auron however, understood. Dropping to one knee, he eased the buckles loose one by one at a leisurely pace, exposing her flesh by minute degrees like the ice of a frozen lake thawing into water under the kiss of the sun. Now and then he caressed her legs as he worked, brushing fingertips over bare skin or the stocking fabric of her other thigh. He played between the varied textures, making her catch her breath in the lengthy pauses between each electrifying touch. She shivered every time another buckle came free. The loose fittings clinked together whenever he moved or she shuddered.

Lulu dug the fingers of one hand into his shoulder to steady herself while she continued to map the storied terrain of his skin wherever it was exposed to her mouth and fingers. Sometimes she lowered her head for another wild exchange of kisses that left her panting and flushed. Damn him, he was barely breathing hard! But she was beginning to be able to read the subtle shifts in his breath, the way his muscles tensed under her hands, and the faint grunts that told her something was getting through. She bit his earlobe and grinned wickedly at his rasping intake of breath, although she paid for it a moment later when a fierce pinch around one nipple brought sparks to her vision, and left a throbbing sting that took some while to subside.

That signal seemed to set him off, and his movements became erratic, unpredictable. Rising to his feet, he drew his hand up slowly from her navel to her throat with fingers outstretched to brush across her breasts. He held her her loosely by the neck, pulling her towards him. Then he pounced. One moment he was stroking and caressing her hair, her cheekbones and jawline, her exposed skin with exquisite delicacy and artistry, leaving a river of tingling heat in his wake, drawing low soft moans and purrs from his appreciative subject. The next he was biting, wrestling, bruising her lips and squeezing the breath from her ribcage as he claimed her mouth savagely. Eventually he fell to tormenting her breasts through her clothing with an intensity that put Chappu to shame.

Lulu was afraid he would simply rip away the outer corset that kept up the neckline of her dress, but he caught both of her wrists and held them firmly when she tried to reach back to loosen the ties. Spinning her around, he seized the loose ends of the laces with his teeth and pulled. The knot slipped free. Slowly he worked his way down her back with his teeth, pulling the laces free one crisscross at a time. The neckline of her gown began to sag, but still he stubbornly refused to address the full globes of her breasts when they slipped free until he had removed the straps on her upper arms that held up her sleeves. When those last restraints were gone, the top of her dress came tumbling down around her hips. At last he dove in, releasing her wrists to cup her breasts in calloused hands, kissing a heated trail around her body. When he reached her navel, Lulu cried out, reaching down to caress his face. Traveling upwards, Auron began to circle her breasts and nipples in earnest with his tongue, teasingly skipping between them at an erratic tempo. Yet when she began to sway and lean into his attentions, he moved on, nuzzling and biting the soft skin of her smooth belly, making it tremble.

She gave a throaty cry as the hand that had been toying with her thighs abruptly forced her legs apart and pushed aside the narrow strip of black fabric that covered her. "Hmph," he grunted, that understated predatory rumble that was his trademark in battle. His thumb and forefinger eased their way into her heated folds. She was already slippery. Again a ripple of lightning seemed to pass through her body at his probing touch. He enveloped her mouth in another heated kiss. Meanwhile his fingers closed over that secret spot and began to fondle her with exquisite, unbearable intensity.

The sorceress was strong, but it was too much. Yet pride muzzled her from pleading for gentler handling. She made herself endure the painful pleasure-- by no means silently. She bit his lower lip hard, trying to stifle her cries. She was not sure whether she tasted or imagined blood, but he growled back at her. His left arm came up behind her shoulders to steady her, fingers playing with her hair, while his right danced and teased her sex with frenzied torment, occasionally easing off into delicious, slow strokes when she thought she would not be able to stand a second longer without screaming.

Auron kissed the tears on her cheeks, a hint of compassion in his gaze behind the strange fire. "Do you still want this?"

"Absolutely." She fought for air and fired back, "Show me you do."

He captured her mouth again to muffle a genuine scream as his fingers thrust into her, first one, then two, while his thumb quivered maddeningly outside. Her body was shaking, and her will had deserted her. She could no longer focus her mind on the game of trying to to make him react to her own flavor of torment. Lulu was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, whirled around and around by the forceful strokes driving in and out of her body's heated center. Auron was breathing heavily into her hair. The leather straps of her clothing creaked, and the buckles jingled as he plundered her living warmth. Her moans were starting to flow together and deepen. Heat was spreading up through her body in waves. She began to be able to withstand and even revel in his unmerciful pace. Head thrown back, gripping his shoulders, she found herself rocking against his hand to coax him to go even harder.

A third finger forced its way in. She was filled, filled and alive and every inch of her skin silently screaming, gleaming with perspiration. Lu felt the world begin to fall away in small shuddering explosions. Auron's thumb kept fleeting contact with her most sensitive spot while his fingers plunged inside, and she was only dizzily aware of his tongue curling around hers. He groaned her name indistinctly into her mouth, then twisted his fingers inside her, aiming and diving at some secret point.

The swordsman had found his mark. Waves of pleasure rippled out from it through her body to every inch of skin and back again. The world ceased to exist, and all she could feel was her body wracked by sweet thunder, shuddering uncontrollably as Auron held her one-armed to keep her from falling. She threw her head back, throat aching as her mouth dropped open in a silent howl.

Auron smiled faintly, watching her steely features undone by ecstasy. Gradually he slowed his movements, stopped, and slid his hand free.

She sighed and hung there, lashes shivering against her cheeks, eyes closed. The world returned to her by slow degrees: the dreamy whisper of water, the hushed stirring of leaves overhead, strange drawn-out cries of distant animals, the scent of earth and mist and her own intoxicated body. There was a rustle as he spread out his coat over the leaves with his boot. Then he gently lowered both of them to the ground, settling Lulu on her back and propping himself over her on one arm. He caressed her hair quietly and watched her heaving breaths slowly return to normal.

At last she opened her eyes and smiled. "You... by Yevon, I do not think you learned to do _that_ in the monastery."

Another snort. "You would be surprised. But it is different with a friend."

"Ugh." She shied away from that train of thought, not up to facing more disillusionment with the Teachings just now. She let out a long tremulous sigh. "I should like to lie here and savor this properly, but I suppose we should be getting back before we are missed."

He chuckled softly. "You are distracted. Listen. Look."

The forest sounded eerie, but she had assumed that was due to the blood surging in her ears. Yet something was out of joint. At first she could not place it. Then she saw how the pyreflies seemed frozen, suspended overhead. No, not frozen. They were spiraling as slowly as the hands of an Al Bhed clock.

"_Hastega_?" She lifted herself to kiss his cheek. "Are you sure you did not cast Beserk on yourself by accident?"

"Hmph," was the faintly smug response. His eyes crinkled. "I had a feeling you would last a while."

"In that case," she purred, stretching languidly beneath him, "I believe I still have to fulfill my part of the challenge." She reached for the clasps along the seam of his breastplate.

&lt;!-- end story --&gt;


	3. The Sorceress

Auron shook his head. "Lulu, you cannot possibly--"

Her eyes flashed. "I might. Don't stop me from trying, Auron." She reached up with both hands and eased the two halves of the armored shell apart, then slid it free of his sturdy frame. Again, she found herself wishing for more light. He was, after all, a striking figure of a man. She had to content herself with the sculpted feel of muscle and bone as her deft fingers wandered over his chest and sought to learn the unfamiliar territory.

Here, too, his skin betrayed his true nature: he smelled faintly of man, but he lacked any musk of the day's battles and exertions, to say nothing of this evening's. She quickly found the buckled lake of scar tissue on one side of his torso marring otherwise smooth, hard flesh. He tensed when her fingers drifted over the ghastly wound, and she immediately diverted her attentions elsewhere.

Auron's breathing slowed appreciatively as she massaged knots from his shoulders-- evidently tension was another part of existence he had been unable to leave behind. He lurched in surprise when a shimmer of sparks danced across his back.

"What in Spira is _that_?" he muttered.

Smiling, she pressed two fingers across his lips. "Allow me."

He grunted. "You are dangerous, woman."

The technique took delicate concentration indeed. It was not something she had risked on Chappu, although she had discovered it by accident years ago while experimenting. Most mages sought greater and greater power. Lulu sought control. Now she unleashed that secret on Auron's skin, tracing faint patterns of fire, water, ice and electricity over his flesh. The power she used was not great enough to cause damage, but ah, yes, to judge by his lidded gaze, the flare of his nostrils, and his occasional jerk, he was savoring every sensation.

Drawing him down to nestle between her thighs, she sought his mouth and renewed what was already becoming a delightfully familiar dance. Her breasts brushed against his chest as he settled over her. She gave a purring sigh as he slid his hands up to squeeze them, rolling his palms across her nipples in light circles and grinding his hips into hers in unison with their kisses. Their legs twined together, and she again chafed at the clothes he was still wearing. She was not about to pause and do something about it, however... at least not yet.

Auron rumbled low in his throat as she teased and tormented him, reaching between their bodies to parade a tingling rain of sparks across his stomach. His kisses began to grow unruly again as she played over the surface of his body. She was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

Gazing up at him to watch the raw flickers of pleasure tugging at his face, she found his features growing indistinct for a moment, then sharper. When she reached up to ruffle his hair, she found it much shorter. Lulu realized with a shock what had changed. She found herself looking up into the face of Auron ten years younger. Both his eyes were fully open; gone was the old slash across his cheek and brow.

He smiled. Actually smiled.

She drew a startled breath. "Sir Auron!"

It almost hurt to see the innocence in his unmarred face. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," she temporized. "I suppose Maester Seymour never noticed you were beautiful either. He does not seem your type." She met him tongue to tongue before the words could deflect him from what she was doing to him.

She wished she could claw at his skin, biting and scratching, ravishing him as he had ravished her, but she was afraid of what she might do if she lost focus. She let the hint of that thought travel through her fingertips with a crackling bite that made him jump, then soothed it over with cool water and ice.

"I could get used to this," he whispered hoarsely, giving her breasts a hard squeeze.

An impish chuckle bubbled out of her, somewhat muffled by his weight on top of her. "You mean this?" she asked, tracing a burning line of heat down his back.

"Mmmmm," he groaned. Then, abruptly, his breath caught between his teeth and he stiffened and sank his full weight onto her, letting go to clench his hand against his chest. At first Lulu feared she had misjudged and hurt him somehow, despite her caution. Then she felt warm wetness trickling between his fingers and smelled the blood. He made no sound, fighting a silent battle with eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Auron!" she snapped, jolted back to reality in a cold instant. "Don't you go dying on me!"

Curse it, she had not stopped to think, just for a change! _What kept the Unsent bound to this world, apart from some burning need, anger, or grief that drove them? But if they let go of that single-minded purpose, if they allowed their spirits to relax, to find peace..._

Lulu's accidental pun drew a hollow laugh out of him, but the sound faded unnaturally. Spirit-lights began to swirl before her vision, and the weight of his body atop hers diminished. She could see the forest through him.

The mage cradled him in sheer frustration, forming a useless cage with her arms, lacking a Summoner's gifts of healing and binding that might hold him. But she had her voice, which could be alluringly hypnotic when she put her mind to it. Sternly, she spoke in his ear, or where his ear had been a moment ago. "Sir Auron. Come back. Now is not the time to let go. Remember your promise to Jecht. Remember Braska's daughter."

With a wrench he was fully there again, right back to the grizzled grey locks of the present day. "I'm not... going anywhere." He seemed to be willing himself to breathe, brows knitted in concentration. "Touch me."

His body still seemed to have scarcely any weight, or else she was feeling giddy. She wrapped her arms around him and rolled him beneath her, looking to see whether the old wound was still haunting him. Blood pooled over his chest and covered his hands, but beneath her gentle probing fingers she felt only scar tissue once more. As for the rest of him... Her heart skipped a beat. Well, that would save time unclothing him, but she was no longer sure whether Auron was in any state to appreciate it. If not, she might have to visit the cold water of the lake herself before she could sleep.

Lulu kissed his forehead gently. "A pity. I quite liked that old face of yours, but let's not try that again, shall we?" she murmured, trying to make light of what had just happened. She called up a few handfuls of water to rinse the blood away. Auron didn't respond: his good eye was shut tight, his breathing labored, and he seemed to be composing himself in more ways than one.

Caressing his cheek, she began to let her fingertips drift here and there over him to help draw him back to his body. Despite his command, she was half-afraid that it might have the opposite effect. This time she used more old-fashioned methods to breathe life into his skin, blowing on his damp flesh and kissing and nipping it as she moved across it, raking her nails lightly across his stomach and chest. He felt cooler, but the heat of her hands seemed to be helping. Finally his eye snapped open and he gripped her hair where her braids met her scalp, growling two words. "_Touch me._"

Lu made a soft wondering sound in her throat, tracing the muscles of one of his legs with a toe as she slid her hand down slowly across his belly, through dark curls, and over what had caught her attention a short time ago. "Here, you mean?" she whispered. "Mm. You are still warm there. Very warm."

He smiled ferally. "So you tell me."

She could not help noticing its size as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and began to work her magic on it-- very ordinary magic this time, sliding her palm around silky flesh in a rhythmic pulse. Was it her imagination, or was his whole body growing more solid beneath her? He growled again, tugging at her hair. She gave a throaty laugh and heeded the hint. Leaving his face with a last lingering kiss, she reversed position over him and lowered her head to his cock, slowly licking along his length. Then she eased the head into her mouth, still stroking him firmly with her hand. His fingers tangled in her hair. "Yesss..."

At first she thought she was making no progress at all and might have to cede the game, but suddenly she felt a pulse jump beneath her fingers. Encouraged, she threw herself upon him with renewed fervor, coaxing, licking, taking him fully in her mouth. She could feel more than hear the faint, panting growls rumbling through his chest. His mouth sought the curve of her hipbone, kissing her urgently. His fingers began to slide back and forth along her legs in an unconscious mimicry of what she was doing.

Lulu's jaw was beginning to ache, but she paid no heed. She no longer had to hold his shaft with her hands to keep it in her mouth; it was standing on its own. Auron gave a strangled cry as she took him deeply into her throat, tonguing him. Abruptly his hands clamped on both sides of her waist, squeezing with unmistakable urgency.

Gently she slipped free, kissed the tip, and turned herself around to face him again. Very human need and strain was drawing his features taut. "Hurry," he mouthed.

"Gladly," she whispered in return, and sank into a lush kiss. Guided by his hands at her sides, she adjusted her body over his. She reached down, tracing a fingertip along his shaft as if casting a blessing over it, then gently positioned him at her already-slick entrance, her body thrumming with anticipation.

Brown and amber eyes met. Lulu plunged her hips downward, drawing him into herself. Both of them gasped together. Seeking half-remembered movements, she began to circle her hips, rising and falling and reveling in the luxurious sensation of him sliding in and out of her. Auron bucked to meet her, his strength returning as he fairly lifted both of them off the ground with the force of some of his thrusts. Eyes locked together, each glimpsed the fire in the other's soul as their tempo built. The stoic swordsman began to lose control. Wildly he drove into her, the sounds of their lovemaking loud in the silent clearing.

Breathing in short, staggered gasps, she found it difficult to speak, but she wrenched free of his mouth to say hoarsely, "Wait."

"Mmmrrrph." He seemed disinclined to obey. After a couple more powerful strokes, she almost lost the will to show him what she meant.

"Be still," Lulu commanded.

Incredulously, he paused, back arched, buried to the hilt deep inside her. Half closing her eyes, she took a careful breath, and began to squeeze and release the muscles of her inner walls, clutching at him. He hissed between his teeth. "I think you're killing me again..."

"Shhh." She planted another kiss and continued to milk him with delicate strength, making every tiny movement an exquisite torment as she gripped and released him. The exercise had its tantalizing effect upon her, too. She felt the pleasure beginning to mount like water piling up behind a dam. Both of them were trembling.

"Go," she gasped, unable to bear the torment she was inflicting on him any longer.

He snarled and thrust into her again, struggling and fierce now. She met him in kind, biting and clawing at his shoulders as she had longed to do before. Now she was barely aware of what she was doing. Their moans blended. Finally she felt the dam give way, and she was suddenly lost again, shuddering and spasming as the pleasure lifted her from the inside out, pouring through her in waves. Dimly she became aware of his staccato gasps, his thrusts becoming short, sharp pulses.

He fell beneath her, the cry of "Braska!" hoarse on his lips.

Lightheaded and faintly amused, she held onto him and let the last lingering waves spill through her with a contented sigh, hips jumping each time another aftershock caught her. Auron came to himself a little later, and stared up at her.

"What did I say?" he whispered hoarsely.

She was unable to suppress a throaty giggle. "Nothing I had not already guessed."

Auron grimaced at her. "You notice too much. I'm sorry."

She kissed his cheek. "Don't be. It proves that I succeeded."

Dizzy and sated, they lay in tangled each other's limbs and immersed themselves in quiet, moody kisses for some while before they realized the sounds of the forest had speeded up again. Auron suddenly halted and turned his head, eyes narrowing. "I lost track of the time."

Again, she laughed low and softly. "So I see. I suppose we really had better go check on our Summoner, before she comes looking for us."

Exhaling, he reached up to touch her cheek with a gentleness that she would not have tolerated sooner. "Agreed." His voice deepened. "Thank you."

She said nothing, but the fond smile that lit her features might have astonished her as much as it did him. Then she was back to her usual brisk practicality. Disentangling from him, she summoned water to clean away the remaining blood before turning to their clothes. Sitting up and slipping her dress back over her shoulders, she arched an eyebrow. "Um...Auron?"

He looked down at himself and snorted, sitting up and rubbing a hand against his thigh absently. "Now you know why fiends don't bother." He grimaced, apparently collecting himself, and suddenly his boots and trousers were back in place.

"Convenient," she remarked, beginning to buckle her skirts back together.

Auron knelt to assist her, muttering something about needing another Hastega just to get her bundled back into her clothes before sunrise. Eventually it was done, and he donned his cuirass and threw his coat around his shoulders. Hastily she pinned up her hair, and they hurried back to camp.

"Auron! Lulu! Where were you?" Tidus' stridently clueless tones breaking over them as they emerged from the forest were a much-needed slap of incongruity that helped Lulu wipe the glazed look of contentment out of her eyes. Her legs, however, were still a little wobbly, and she stumbled over her skirts as they stepped into the clearing. Auron reached back and caught her elbow, righting her.

Yuna, looking a little flushed and dishevelled herself, hurried towards the older woman. "Lulu...are you hurt? What happened?" She reached for the woman's cheek. "You're bleeding!"

The black mage laughed. "Oh, I'm fine." She pulled away, dabbing at her cheek with the back of her hand. "Auron healed me." Her eyes twinkled. "I promise to let you do it next time."

Auron snorted.

"Dang, Lu," Wakka said, coming over and peering at her. "You look pretty beat up! What happened?"

"The sorceress," Sir Auron interrupted, choosing his words with care, "tackled a powerful fiend singlehandedly. It was a ghost that haunts the lands around Bevelle, a warrior monk who rebelled against his order and was slain. His form was all but impervious to physical attacks, but his sword was real enough. Lulu, however, dispatched him quite efficiently."

Wakka massaged the back of his neck and stared hard at Lulu, a mixture of incredulity and respect in his blunt features. "Ya? So what's the guy's name?"

"The Unsent."

Lulu averted her face, struggling to suppress a bark of laughter, but luckily Yuna saved her by interrupting. "I'm sorry... we... we should have been here to help." She darted a shy glance towards Tidus, who spread his hands apologetically.

Lulu's eyes twinkled. "No. Don't trouble yourself. We were all enjoying ourselves tonight, each in our own manner." She winked at Yuna's bashful expression.

Wakka folded his arms and glared at Tidus. "Idiots, the lot of you, wandering off like that. Now get your sorry butts to bed before I start crackin' heads, ya?"

Rikku giggled from her perch, eavesdropping. "Wakka's jealous he missed all the fun."

Lulu arched an eyebrow and glanced at Sir Auron, whose expression was now as inscrutable as ever. The sorceress smiled. "I'm sure."


End file.
